Song for the Life
by Siancore
Summary: Richonne tale based on lyrics of songs. I find inspiration everywhere and presently, song lyrics are top of my list.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Had this idea from something that **lanie-love09** said in a review for one of my other stories. She mentioned that she couldn't see Rick being unfaithful, that he was such a good guy, I am inclined to agree but wanted to see if I could develop a story around Rick and his notions of fidelity. I also loved what she said about guilt being a wasted emotion. It really got me thinking and I came up with this. Please leave a review if you read this, people's thoughts really are an inspiration to me. Enjoy!

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Chapter 1: On the Other Hand

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to Randy Travis' lyrics

_On one hand I count the reasons that I could stay with you; and hold you close to me all night long._

_So many lovers' games, I'd love to play with you; on that hand there's no reason why it's wrong. _

_But on the other hand…_

Rick Grimes struggled slightly while trying to keep his balance as he stepped, one foot after the other, into his jeans. His half naked form and pale skin was illuminated by the weak light that, for the most part, filled the small unadorned room. Michonne watched him quietly from where she was sprawled out on the bed, very much naked herself, with just a sheet strategically placed to protect her modesty; a somewhat pointless exercise considering Rick had already seen, felt and tasted it all before. She thought that he always looked awkward after they had sex. He was fine before, during and immediately after, uttering her name coupled with swear words and fighting to catch his breath. It was in the moments of intimate silence that followed that he was aware of the proximity of their still, warm bodies and the palpable beating of their hearts. It was in these moments when the look of guilt washed over Rick. When, for just the briefest interval, he felt completely comfortable and right, holding Michonne so close to him that he forgot how conflicted he actually was. That's when he would remember; he would remember that he was already spoken for; that someone else bore his children and carried his last name. The guilty expression and awkward dressing would soon follow, as did the apologies and the solemn declarations that this would be the last time that they would come together and that their meeting like this could not continue.

Michonne would always silently nod and tell him that she understood why they could not be together, that she understood it had to come to an end. If her life experience had taught her anything, it was that fairy tales were not real and no matter how many times your mama and daddy called you a princess, you did not always get what you wanted. Yes. She wanted Rick Grimes. She wanted more of him than he was offering; more than his calloused hands exploring every inch of her firm body. More than the deliciousness of his taut skin under her tongue. More than her name escaping from his throat as he moaned so deeply. More than his hot breath against her neck as he pushed himself deep inside her over and over again. Michonne wanted to be able to say that he was hers and that she was his, out in the light of day; from behind closed doors.

He would try to hide his guilt-laden expression from her, but it was to no avail. She saw it, and it hurt her every time because she knew that some of that guilt was for her; he felt so utterly terrible each time he told her that they were through; he felt so bad because he was the one who had sought her out in the start in an effort to garner comfort from her. He felt guilt over starting something with her, knowing very well that he still felt attachment and duty to his wife. Mostly, he felt guilty for hurting her. The way that she pretended to be fine with him abandoning her; the sadness and disappointment in her eyes. He felt guilty for inflicting that type of pain on her; for causing her such grief.

Maybe this time he really meant it. Maybe he would not find his way back into her arms when he felt crushed by the all-encompassing weight of his responsibilities. When he felt so alone even though he was surrounded by those who adored and cherished him. She understood how lonely he really was, she too felt the same; it was part of what brought them together, the loneliness they each felt. Those were the times when he would go to her, but that was not the complete story, no; he went to Michonne because, whether he could admit it or not, whether she realized it or not, he was drawn to her. He was attracted to her. He lusted after her, he _longed_ for her. He felt the worry and dread fall away when he held her close; like it was normal, like it was right. _But on the other hand…_

_…__There's a golden band; to remind me of someone who would not understand._

_On one hand I could stay and be your loving man; but the reason I must go is on the other hand._

Rick Grimes, avoiding Michonne's gaze, uttered one last weak apology and left. After what seemed like an eternity of roaming in the shadows of the mysterious early morning, Rick came to rest on the cold floor of a darkened corridor. Shrunken and tired, he let his head fall back to the wall, drew his knees upwards and closed his eyes to stop the stinging of the tears that had formed. _Why do I treat her like this? _He thought of Michonne. _She doesn't deserve it. _He felt so torn inside. She was just so loyal and beautiful. She made him feel at ease. She let him be the man that he needed to be in this world, without judgement. Of course he would turn to her to console him. Of course she would open herself to him. He knew what she really meant to him, the words that were whispered in his most secret moments; in solitude and anguish. He _loves _Michonne, but he dare not even say it. This is what pains him. Their connection is real; their connection is undeniable…And yet, there is his loyalty to his wife who, for all of her downfalls and inconsistencies, was still his wife.

She rolled on to her back, staring at nothing in particular; used her hands to rub both eyes and tried to ignore the lump that was forming in her throat. As the tears began to well and her heart felt like it was being torn from inside her chest, she made a silent promise to herself; as difficult as it was going to be for Michonne, she could no longer allow Rick to come to her for solace. He would have to deal with his guilt and his loneliness on his own henceforth; for her heart could not endure any longer.

After a moment, Michonne made a move to find her clothing that Rick had, in his impatience to feel her naked form, almost ripped from her body. She dressed quietly and sat back down on her bed. Her mind swimming with thoughts of inadequacy and self-loathing. _Why do I let him treat me like this?_ She thought, her face growing hot as she felt overcome by resentment. She knew he still contained within him somewhere affections for his wife, that he still carried a sense of obligation toward her. It mattered not what had transpired between Rick and Lori, Michonne knew she that would forever be the mother of his children; his wife. The fact that she _loves _him, Michonne loves _him_, that counts for nothing. With that, it was decided; Michonne would leave this place. She did not think she could live without Rick, but alas, she did not think she could look upon him every day and be forced to hold back; hold back a knowing smile, a gentle caress or to whisper his name. _No. _It was best if she just left. Hell is other people and pain is loving someone who does not love you back. _Yes. _She would go. At least she still had some good memories of Rick.

After she regained her composure, Michonne, through still blurred vision, scribbled some excuse or another on a scrap of paper, grabbed what belongings she could carry and slipped away silently into the night.

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A/N: _On the Other Hand_ by Randy Travis – please give it a listen if possible to see how it resonates with the story.

Thanks for reading. If I decide to update this story, the next chapter will be based on/inspired by lyrics to another song. Also, I'm having funny thoughts because I just ordered a ticket to see Lil' Jon when he comes to Australia, imagine the type of Richonne fic I could write if his lyrics inspired me. Lots of muh'phuckas and bitches I can only assume LOL Love it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Snuff

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead nor do I own the rights to Corey Taylor's lyrics.

A/N: This follows on from On the Other Hand.

Thank you all for the reviews, I am so glad the story was well received. I had to laugh at **HeartoSteel**'s suggestion of Lil' Jon's "Lovers and Friends" - got stuck in my head straight away and the best line is "…now you all grown up like Rudy Huxtable" because Keshia Knight Pulliam is lovely and always makes me smile.

Thanks for the song suggestions; I will get around to listening to them all!

This next chapter is a small glimpse into Rick's feelings upon learning his love has left him.

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_Bury all your secrets in my skin._

_Come away with innocence and leave me with my sin._

_The air around me still feels like a cage._

_Love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again._

Rick was angry; he felt the white hot rage stirring deep inside, bleeding to the surface. He was angry at Michonne; he understood why she did what he had done, but to put her own life at risk? For what? Because of _him_? Some fraction of his anger manifested because he had thought she would not go; would not abandon him. He had some silly notion that she would always be there for him. Maybe that was the problem; he assumed she would make herself available for as long as he sought her out. Now,_ now_ he realized he had resorted to blaming _her_. Because she wanted more, but did not ever give voice to her true desire for him; to him. She loves him. Why did she not ever tell him? Why would she leave it scribbled on a scrap of paper and discard it, like she discarded her feelings for him. Left the crumpled note behind, like she had left him behind. Why would she write the words down for him to read, but never let the words fall from her mouth for him to hear? A mouth he would never taste again, he thought sadly. That might have changed everything, if he knew just how she felt. But now, all he felt was ire. If he was man enough to admit it, Rick was enraged at himself as well. For being stupid. For being the _cause_ of her leaving. For everything. He too did not voice his truest feelings for her. He too buried his secrets, and all that did was hurt them both, and resigned them to be trapped in a hell that no one could see.

_So if you love me let me go. Or run away before I know._

_My heart is just too dark to care. I can't destroy what isn't there._

_Deliver me into my fate; if I'm alone I cannot hate._

She was gone; she _is gone_. Gone, like a whispered, tormented plea falling upon deaf ears. Gone, like an invisible kiss pressed lightly against brackish, ravenous skin. Gone, much like the last glimmer of sunshine before it is devoured by the darkness of the night. Rick's anger will not let him focus; arrange his thoughts. It's all just pain. The throbbing in his head; the aching in his soul. The pain. _She is gone._

Regardless of his anger, in spite of himself, Rick did not despise Michonne. He loved her too much; indefinitely. He just was not strong enough for her. Rick was not strong enough to let go of his wife, and surrender himself to Michonne, wholly and completely. He was weak. She made him weak. _The flesh is weak, but love is strong._

Yet, now, as Rick walked briskly toward Michonne's quarters, he was not strong enough for what he was certain he would encounter; nothing, an empty space, a void. He would be alone with all of his guilt and his anguish, to contemplate her actions and _his_ actions and realize… All along he had let his loyalty to his wife and his sense of guilt drive a wedge between he and Michonne. Maybe it was that simple; maybe her leaving was for the best. Why should Rick Grimes be allowed to attain happiness? After all…

_I don't deserve to have you... _

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A/N: _Snuff _by Slipknot (ah, the pure anguish of heavy metal love songs…Hahaha)

Oh and you can check out both songs here:

_On the Other Hand __ watch?v=7s9q4An6rMA_

_Snuff __ watch?v=NUC6sAXza_k_

I think they really encapsulate the mood of the chapters. More to come!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Victim of the Game

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have to rights to any songs by Garth Brooks.

A/N: This follows on from _Snuff_. This is a small glimpse into Michonne's thoughts and feelings.

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_Well it took a little time, but I guess you finally learned_

_That promises get broken, and bridges do get burned._

_You've been sifting through the ashes, just tryin' to find a flame_

_Holding on to nothin', you're a victim of the game._

Michonne had always liked early mornings; she felt a gentle calmness in the solitude that they brought. But she did not feel calm this morning. She felt heavy and at a loss. Her eyes were sore from crying, and her feet weighed her down, she was in need of encouragement to get them to move; to carry her away from this place. Away from the heartache. Away from Rick. _Rick_. Just the thought of him made her want to run, to steal away faster, yet at the same time thinking of him compelled her to turn around. To return to him. As weak as he had made her feel, she still wanted him. But she knew she had to be strong. He did not want her enough to give himself over completely.

She had already paid her penance, she had already atoned; she would not suffer any longer while trying to ease Rick's mind. She could not tolerate being pushed aside time after time. These thoughts, these realizations; they fuelled her. They drove her forward. Creating a great distance between her and the people whom she had come to care for. Become close with. But their proximity only served to make her feel a false sense of security and made her forget; the ones who claim to love us always find a way to hurt us the most.

_You were standin' way too close to see it all fall apart. _

_And there were things you couldn't hear 'cause you were listenin' with your heart._

_But you can't say I didn't warn you, now there's no one else to blame_

_There's no one quite as blind, as a victim of the game_

She had hoped her leaving would serve to put Rick at ease as well. That her not being around would not cause him grief; would not leave him feeling conflicted. That the look of guilt would disappear from his weary face; that he could be happy. That he could return to that moment in his life when he was _happy_. Michonne had to concede that for everything that had happened between the two of them, Rick was still a good man. He is a good man. She did not aim to hurt him, yet she knew, deep within her soul, that this would hurt him. She acknowledged, despite her own distress, she was not the only person who would be marred by all of this; she was not the only one whose heart would ache.

_…__it don't matter who you are_

_It treats everyone the same_

_All you need's a heart_

_To be a victim of the game_

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A/N: Gosh, these lyrics are depressing! I think I need a hug after this. More to come…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Worth Fighting For

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to any lyrics by Rob Halford

A/N: This follows on from _Victim of the Game._

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_You said I could never find a way to ease your mind_

_That where I'd go you'd wind up in the dust_

_I tried so hard to have you reach another side of me_

_Instead you went to nowhere and forgot…_

"You made her go away! Dad! How could you? We love her, she loves us and you made her go away! I'll never forgive you for this, ever!"

Carl's words rang in Rick's ears as he sat in Michonne's cell on her bed that was now stripped bare. He held the note that she had left for him to find, staring at what she had written. The note that Carl had found in her plain room when he went looking for her as he did each morning. The note that Carl had thrown at his father in front of their entire group as he shouldered his way past Rick, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. She had left the multi-coloured cat for him; a bittersweet reminder for her of the young boy she had come to love and cherish as if he were her own. The cat that he took to his own cell as he cried out of anguish for Michonne, now lost to him. She almost changed her mind when she thought of Rick's children. She almost unpacked her meagre belongings, but the wrenching of her heart forced her to be resolute in her decision. The children would be safe with Rick, she would ache for them, miss them terribly; but she was happy in knowing they were safe. He is a strong protector, a good father; that is one of the reasons why she loves him.

She almost went to see Rick, to tell him to his face that she was to leave; but she did not trust herself, her emotions. He would look at her in that sad way, his blue eyes peering into her soul. He would say something to make her stay, he would promise that he would keep his distance, that he would not complicate things for her. He might say that he would work on his guilt and his issues and that he did love her. He might say he wanted her. He would ask what she wanted him to tell Carl. He would plead with her and she would stay. They would end up in each other's embrace again, and be right back where they had begun.

He had to check her room to see if she had actually gone, and she had. He felt as empty as her cold cell was. That voice from deep inside him that screamed out her name met a resounding echo from his hollowness. He had wounded her so profusely that she could not be around him. That she would rather face the horrors of the world instead of be in his presence a moment longer. Rick could barely focus his thoughts; he had been so foolish. _I should have chosen her._ I love her; _I love her._ But she was gone. He did not fight to keep her; he had let her flee. He had caused this problem. For all of his integrity and loyalty and other words that people seldom used anymore, he was not true to Michonne. He was too busy trying to be true to the memory of Lori. But his wife was long dead; long gone. She is gone, and still causing Rick heartache. And now…Michonne; this living and breathing woman, _she_ was lost to him.

_Rick, _

_I'm leaving, don't look for me. I can't stay here and face you every day. It's easier to be away from you. I tried so hard to ease your mind. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. I can't compete with the memory of a ghost. All I'm guilty of is loving you. Please tell Carl I love him, and kiss Judith for me._

_Goodbye._

_Michonne._

* * *

_…__So I wander on asking where you might have gone._

_From what I knew before; some things are worth fighting for…_

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A/N: _Worth Fighting For _by (the mighty) Judas Priest 

This song is one of my favourites. I'm thinking of using all of the lyrics to prompt the next chapter because it tells a story within itself. Yep, definitely need a hug after all of this angst…I know it's all a bit moody, so thanks to those who have read thus far.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Worth Fighting For Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to any lyrics by Rob Halford

A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone; I wanted to respond to everyone because you have no idea how helpful and inspiring what the readers say is for me, so I might do it on the next chapter as I'm keen to get this one done. One little phrase and I could have an idea for a new fic (which has happened), so please, keep the reviews coming. I was a little worried that this fic would be a little too airy fairy, but it seems okay. I never really thought that Rick would be unfaithful, but I did think he would feel extreme guilt and still have a sense of loyalty to Lori (even if it is to her memory). When someone is as damaged as our favourite couple of the apocalypse, it makes the sad times sadder, just as it makes the good times better. They just need to get over themselves and focus on some good times for eff's sake!

Also, dear readers, sorry for the wait in between; I really do have to be in some shitty kind of mood to get into the headspace to write this one. Ha! I know, I shouldn't take it out on Richonne, but I love a bit of angst…And it makes for an interesting story! Sorry they've been short instalments, but the emotions are pretty overwhelming and do my head in lol Anyways, I'm shutting up now and finally updating…

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_Did I see your figure in the haze?_

Two days had passed; two long days that Rick had spent licking his wounds. He did not eat, he barely slept and his son was not speaking to him. Carl was right, he had driven Michonne away. For all of his good intentions and his morals, he still ended up being hurt nonetheless, his son was also hurt, the group was now significantly weaker; and she was gone. She could be anywhere by now; she could be hurt. She had left, she had changed and Rick had remained the same; he was still pained, he was still conflicted and he was still alone.

Rick had been quiet for the past two days. Everyone had heard what his son had said to him, the words still fresh in his mind, causing him to flinch as if he had been struck a blow when he thought of them: We love her, she loves us and you made her go away! The aching in his temple had been perpetual from the moment he had learned of Michonne's departure; much like the wrenching of his heart. Constant, persistent and painful. Night had finally fallen once more and Rick was glad of it. It meant the darkness would hide his dishevelled countenance and consequently deter the questioning looks that he was receiving from the others. Judith was peacefully sleeping; her quiet little sounds were the only things that brought Rick's heart and mind any semblance of comfort presently.

He was weighed down and tired and wanted to sleep, but he found that when he closed his eyes, he saw her figure. Through the haze of his weariness; through the haze of his sadness and anger he saw her. It was different from the manner in which his wife had haunted him because there was still something he could do about the situation. Michonne might have been gone, but there was a significant chance that she was still alive. She was strong and determined and that's only a small part of what he loved about her; her willingness to live. After everything she had been through, after all of the horrors she had faced, she still fought so hard to live. Rick realized then that he must have wounded her deeply to have her risk what she had fought so hard to retain, her very life, just to be away from him; to be out of his presence.

Rick closed his eyes tightly, wishing that the agony that he was subject to would desist; hoping silently that he would not see Michonne in his dreams that night. That she would not come and continue torturing him; reminding him that it was his fault, reminding him that she had left him, reminding him that she had disappeared out of his reach into the haze.

* * *

_I am driven by a thirst to quench myself of love; the sun beats on me for the price I've paid_

The last droplet of water slid coolly down Michonne's throat and drove away the hoarse dryness that bothered her at present. That was the last of the water she had taken, and she had already run out of food. She used her hand to shield her eyes from the relentless light that lorded over midday. She had been away from the prison, from Rick, for almost two days. Pushing herself forward on swollen, blistered feet; knowingly punishing herself for loving him. If she could somehow slake the love she had for him, her journey would be easier and she would move faster; but somehow, a heavy heart can weigh you down just as much as hunger, thirst and the need to sleep.

Michonne had found an abandoned house in a long ago abandoned neighbourhood of Rick's old hometown. She hoped that she could find sanctuary, something to eat and a place to rest her head; to her relief, it was uninhabited by neither the living nor the dead. The onetime home looked like a hundred others she had seen since the world ended; full of echoes of the people that had lived there. An eerie sadness pervaded each corner of each room, reminding the new inhabitant or visitor of the lives that were lost. Family photographs and keepsakes hanging about listlessly, like the ghosts and memories of those who had long since perished. She had found some meagre food stored high in one of the kitchen cupboards. After gathering it, she returned to the living room, leaned her back to a wall and allowed her body to slide down to the floor. She did not eat what she had collected, instead, she stared off at nothing in particular and tried to fight back the tears. Michonne sat this way until the sun had disappeared and the moon and stars sparsely illuminated what would otherwise be a blackened night sky.

* * *

_…__Some things are worth fighting for_.

The sun had slowly ascended and life at the prison began to stir. Rick had taken his daughter to Hershel's daughter and returned to his quarters; not feeling much like facing the day and other people yet, just as it had been the day before.

"You're just gonna mope around here another day then?" asked Hershel, as he entered the cell that Rick had shared with Judith.

He had been completely aware that something was amiss with Rick and that Michonne's abrupt departure had a different impact on him than it did with the others in the group. Carl was still furious with his father, and Rick had been withdrawn and sullen. Hershel knew what regret in a man looked like. He had spent many years being regretful for his own actions; regretful for hurting those he loved. Hershel knew what a man who was fighting inner demons looked like; he saw that battle inside Rick and the worry it caused etched across the younger man's face. He also knew what a man with a broken heart resembled. One only had to look into Rick's sad blue eyes to know it was true.

Rick, seated on his bed, looked to his friend and squinted his eyes a little.

"What're ya talkin' about?" he replied with a question of his own; pretending with all of his tenacity that he did not know what the older man was speaking of.

"Look, Rick, I don't claim to know what happened between you and Michonne…"

"Hershel, don't," Rick interrupted, as he let his head drop and averted his gaze. "Please, just don't. I already told Daryl not to mention her name…"

"Alright, alright. I won't say her name," offered Hershel, slightly taken aback that it had gone that far. "But I will say this, no matter how hard it is to win some battles and no matter how many times ya feel like you just can't win. When ya feel that you've been hurt, wounded, more than you can take, just remember that some wounds are worth it in the end. They show how hard you've had to fight for what ya believe in, for what ya love; and I know this to be true, some battles are worth it."

Hershel paused a moment, noticing that Rick was now looking at him; seemingly taking in what it was that he was trying to say. He sighed loudly, narrowed his gaze and stared straight at the younger man before adding:

"And Rick, believe me when I tell you this; some things are worth fightin' for."

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A/N: More to come!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Worth Fighting For Part 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to any lyrics by Rob Halford

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I've updated this one. Thanks for the reviews everyone; I know it's pretty heavy, but I am glad people have enjoyed it so far.

* * *

_So I wander on asking where you might have gone._

_From what I knew before; some things are worth fighting for…_

2 days ago

"Rick, I found where she cut a hole in the fence and took off. She patched it, but my point is I know which way she went; I can track her, I can find her," Daryl offered to his friend, but Rick actively avoided his gaze.

"Get your shit together, man; we're headin' out," he added before turning and walking away.

* * *

Presently

The houses they searched were the same as countless others they had encountered; abandoned, much like the hopes and dreams of the people who had once lived in them. The pair remained quiet for most of the search; Daryl occasionally mumbling something about a track he saw and Rick grunting in response. The mood was sombre because while they had been searching for the past two days, it seemed they were not even gaining any ground on Michonne. Daryl tried to recall from his time spent with her on runs, what some of her habits were, hoping it would lead them to her.

The next house that they searched was just like the others, yet Daryl noticed that someone had been there not too long ago. Tracks on the dusty floor left the kitchen and found their way into the living room where the person who had made them took up a seat on the floor. The tracks matched Michonne's. She had been there.

* * *

Her food had run out, and both her thirst and hunger were making it difficult to move on; yet, Michonne knew she had to. She knew that Daryl would try to find her, even if Rick did not want to. She had to leave the place she was holed up in. She could not stay there any longer and give in to the tiredness that washed over her form and made her feel sluggish and heavy. Her broken heart weighed her down just was much; all she wanted to do was sleep and forget, but she could not. She had to keep moving. She had to put more distance between them. This was for the best.

She vaguely remembered the layout of the town from when she, Rick and Carl had ventured there in their search of weapons. Carl; she missed him terribly. She felt tears sting her eyes and threaten to fall as she thought of Rick's son. Her heart clenched even more when she thought about what he must be thinking; she hoped he did not think she had forsaken him, and yet, deep down she knew that was exactly what she had done; she had abandoned Carl.

She wiped her eyes and then recalled the dangerous one, Rick's friend. They had left him there, and somehow, she knew he might still be alive and still dangerous. His fractured reality was more of a cause for concern than was his aim with a rifle. Michonne kept that in the back of her mind as she made her way through the streets of what now looked like a ghost town; her heart still heavy as she thought of the home she had left behind and of Rick and his children.

* * *

"She was here, man," offered Daryl, as Rick turned hastily to look at his friend. "Look, these are her tracks. She sat here and ate."

"How long ago?" Rick asked, feeling a glint of hope rise up from inside of him.

"No more than a day, I'd say. Rick, we're close. I can maybe track her direction from here, but the sun's droppin' too quick. We'll have to start again in the mornin'," Daryl said quietly.

"No. No, we can't stop now. She could be just around the corner," Rick said, not thinking straight.

"Rick. Come on, you know it's not worth tryin' to look for her when the sun goes down. That's suicide. We'll start again first thing in the mornin'. She won't be movin' anywhere at night time neither. Trust me, man. We gotta wait it out."

Reluctantly Rick nodded.

* * *

The late afternoon sun crept slowly away to where it would slumber as the evening was about to set in. Michonne kept thinking back to the time Rick had brought her with him to this place. She recalled how he had been quite civil towards her; it was when she first saw him in a different light and understood him better. She had thought then, that maybe, all differences aside, they could be friends. So much had changed for them since then and there she was, still being tormented by thoughts of his sad blue eyes.

Michonne approached a grassy area surrounded by tall trees that was once a park; it was now overgrown and appeared to be almost sinister looking as the trees cast dark shadows everywhere. She was headed toward the police station since she had been there once before and was sure it would be safe.

Suddenly, as if on cue, several walkers came from behind the trees and moved quickly towards Michonne. There were probably up to ten of them, although she could not be certain. She unsheathed her weapon and cut down two of the creatures; their rotted, headless bodies fell to the ground with a thud as the ones left standing stumbled over the remains of the fallen and kept pushing forward. Michonne continued to step backwards in an effort to retreat from the oncoming walkers. Her arms felt heavy as she swung her katana; she was finding it difficult to dispatch them effectively from her lethargy and how weak she was left because of her hunger.

One of the walkers lunged towards her and gripped her shoulders tightly; Michonne staggered backward and tried to fight it off but dropped her sword in the tussle. She then lost her footing and fell to the ground, violently hitting her head on a block of concrete. The walker fell on top of her and just before she lost consciousness, she swore that she had heard a gun firing.

* * *

The bullet cleanly entered the skull of the walker that had Michonne pinned underneath of it. Its body flopped on top of her while she was knocked out cold. Several more shots sounded and the remaining walkers fell to the ground. A boot forcefully moved the dead walker from Michonne as fingers checked her pulse; she was still alive, weak and dehydrated, but alive. Strong arms lifted her and she was strewn over a shoulder as she was carried away. The last rays of sunshine disappeared and shadows were cast all over ground, hiding the spot where Michonne had dropped her sword.

* * *

Rick and Daryl tracked Michonne to the park and found the remains of the walkers that had attacked her. They took note that some were decapitated and stabbed, while most were shot.

"She was here. These ones are her kills," Rick said as he motioned to the headless walkers.

"Someone else was here too. Someone with a gun," Daryl offered as he pointed out the gunshot wounds to the heads of the walkers.

Suddenly, something caught Daryl's eye in the long grass; he walked over and felt his heart sink at the sight. Quickly, he grabbed it then called for Rick; he squinted then realization came over him. Rick felt as if the very air was forced from his body when he noticed it was Michonne's weapon. He used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, and then looked around the area to make sure she was not lying dead somewhere in the grass. His head dropped as he pinched the bridge of his nose; eyes closed tightly from frustration.

"She ain't here, man," Said Daryl as soon as he figured out Rick was scanning the area for her.

"The person with the gun, I think they took her."

* * *

_I'm leaning in the wind_

_Head bowed down from what I saw_

_My shadow for a friend_

_Still some things are worth fighting for…_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Between the Devil and Me

Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to any lyrics by Alan Jackson

A/N: So Michonne has actually been taken now (instead of just being missing) and Rick and Daryl are in pursuit! I intend to show what's happened, but right now, this instalment looks back to how Rick and Michonne first came together by addressing their mutual attraction. This has insight into how Rick is preoccupied with Michonne and how good she looks yet still feeling guilty.

* * *

_This world can take you by the hand and tempt the soul of any man_

_But you can choose your path; there's two roads you can take_

_One way is right and one way is wrong; the flesh is weak, but love is strong_

_And she's all I see between the devil and me…_

Sometimes the fresh morning air was hard to breathe, especially when the weather was cold. The steady bursts of sun light did little to warm her body, but Michonne finished doing her stretching and proceeded to jump three or four times on the spot in preparation for her morning jog. She usually ran along the inside of the prison yard a few times of a morning; she found that it helped to clear her head if she had too much on her mind. It also helped her to keep fit. It was the only time that she did not wear her skin-tight garments and boots. She opted for runners and sweats.

She had already started her second lap when Rick Grimes made his way outside to check the perimeter. He stopped and watched her a moment; always thoroughly impressed by her physical capabilities and secretly impressed by her physical attributes. He found his eyes roaming freely over her feminine form from time to time, much like he was doing presently. Her movements caused her weighty and full breasts to bounce; something he could see regardless of the loose fitting sweatshirt she was wearing. Rick licked his dry lips and continued to watch. He was tempted by her. He was tempted by the sway in her hips and the graceful way she strode. He was tempted by her strength and the mystery that surrounded her.

Rick felt bad for stealing surreptitious glances at Michonne; he knew it was wrong because she had become a friend of his and he had become somewhat of a leader to her. He knew it was wrong for he had recently lost his wife and was still haunted by her ghost; but there was something else about Michonne that he could not fully explain. There was an attraction there that Rick could not make sense of, and it was not just her pleasing aesthetics that appealed to him.

Michonne's beauty was quite obvious to anyone who had had the pleasure of being able to throw a glance in her direction. The way her hair fell about her pretty face, framing her dark brown eyes and plump, heart shaped lips; draped down her elegant neck and resting at her toned shoulders and flawless collarbones. Her long legs and perfectly rounded bottom that the fabric of her jeans clung so tightly to, leaving very little to Rick's imagination.

He admitted to himself that he enjoyed looking at Michonne; she seemed to be a pretty distraction from the ugliness of the world that they lived in. Some survivors stopped and admired the vast array of colourful flowers that bloomed along the side of a road; others continually marvelled at the way that the setting sun kissed the darkening sky with streaks of red, purple, pink and orange; yet Rick found that he was increasingly thinking of Michonne's lovely face when he needed reminding that there was still beautiful things to be appreciated in the world.

Even when she was flustered from a workout or because of having to fight off an attack, she still looked quite stunning. Rick sometimes could not help but muse that her delicious skin might actually have absorbed the rays of the sun that caused her to shimmer in the light of midday; the delicate sheen of sweat could easily be described as the soft fingerprints of a deity that danced all over her mahogany tones. For all of her beauty, Rick thought, somehow proved that Michonne was truly touched by the gods.

Rick shook his head slightly as he came back to reality; drawn out of his thoughts of Michonne, he walked down to the fence line and made his rounds. He ran his hands over the cold wire and pushed sections to test their durability. He felt secure in knowing that they had a safe place to live in now; and then he felt guilty once more. Guilty because he could not save his friends and his wife, yet here he was, alive and well with a place to call home and thinking about another woman.

Rick stopped and rubbed his eyes; he looked through the mesh of the fence and saw Lori's fading figure dressed in white. She was visiting him less and less and he felt bad about it. He did not hear Michonne come to a halt beside him until she placed her hand to his shoulder. Rick jumped, slightly startled; then looked at Michonne, who stood wearing a knowing look.

"You okay, Rick? You see somethin'?" she asked, slightly out of breath from her jog.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just checkin' the fences. It's fresh out here this mornin'," he offered, trying to draw the attention away from being caught in the midst of a vivid hallucination.

"Sure is. I'm pretty warmed up now though," she said with a small grin that Rick found contagious.

"Fancy some company?" Michonne then added while Rick appeared to be confused by her question.

"While you check the fences, would you like me to walk with you?" she asked.

Rick smiled slightly wider this time before answering his friend.

"Sure, let's go."

Rick and Michonne began to walk slowly and in comfortable silence; he glanced back over his shoulder to where the apparition of his dead wife was and noticed that she had disappeared altogether. His gaze fell back to Michonne and he felt a heat spread through his body as their shoulders inadvertently came into contact. Michonne, he thought, was tempting him and she did not even know it.

_The flames are spreadin' everywhere;_

_But through the smoke I see her there._

_She's all I see between the devil and me._

* * *

A/N: Next we'll find out what Michonne thought of Rick and see what they will inevitably do in response to all of those thoughts.

Sorry it was all a bit airy fairy, but she is my muse and my girl crush after all lol.

Thanks for reading. More to come!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Weak

A/N: Thanks so much for the flattering reviews!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, nor do I have the rights to any lyrics by Skunk Anansie

* * *

_Lost in time, I can count the words_

_I said when I thought they went unheard._

_All of those harsh thoughts, so unkind;_

_'cause I wanted you…_

Michonne always knew when Rick was watching her. At first, it was because of her innate survival instincts; when they had initially met, Rick was not the most hospitable person and she was wary of him. As time had passed and she began to know him better, her instinct in discerning whether or not Rick was watching changed its premise much like the reasons for Rick's observations did. By chance, she had caught him staring, his eyes wandering over her body; she recognized the glint of desire in them. Growing up, Michonne had always been self-aware; she had developed the physique of a woman in early adolescence and was always mindful of the unwelcome stare of men. Now, she had become aware of Rick's stare, and with all honesty, she welcomed it.

She admitted to herself that she found the man wildly erotic; his stern, unwavering and penetrating glower; his stance and bearing, always so commanding and firm; the way he spoke with his slow, deep drawl; his raw and musky scent of sweat and soil and just the smallest tinge of blood; his rough beard that almost hid away his cracked lips. Even his dark blue eyes that flickered with a slight hint of madness emanated sex appeal for Michonne.

Rick was quiet unless he had something to say; Michonne liked that about him. She was quite happy to be in his presence and not say anything at all. She imagined he got lost in his own head, much like she had from time to time; just another thing the unlikely pair had in common.

After the prison was briefly attacked and they began to let others in, Michonne took note that many of the new women noticed Rick. She could not fault them, after all, she noticed him as well. She mused that in the past, women would have routinely pursued Rick, but his sensibilities were much like that of a traditional woman in that he would need to feel as if he were in love to do anything about an attraction. This caused Michonne to sigh at times because the attraction was there, but she just did not want to act on it for fear of being rejected and making their ever growing friendship strained. Alas, she reasoned, if Rick Grimes wanted her like she wanted him, she would wait for him to make the first move. She understood that the loss of his wife was still fresh in his heart and mind; she would be patient with him.

Michonne thoroughly enjoyed the morning walks she and Rick had been sharing since she had first offered him her company almost a week ago. He would habitually wait for her to conclude her morning jog and the two of them would walk the grounds of the prison and undertake perimeter check. Sometimes they remained comfortably quiet, other times they spoke about what was going to improve their lives at their home; and then, sometimes, they spoke about themselves.

Michonne found it easy to talk to Rick; he was usually so quiet and just let her say what she needed to; asking questions when he wanted to. She did not divulge too much information about herself and mainly spoke of what life was like for her alone on the outside. He could tell she was strong and a survivor in every sense of the word; this only made her more appealing to him.

Rick mainly spoke of his worry for his children, namely Carl. He did not know how this world would impact his son and he feared that the child would grow to be stony and callous.

"He's a good kid, Rick," she offered quietly, not looking at the man who was strolling slowly beside her with one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah, I know, but I just feel like he's gonna be cold when he grows up. He's had too much exposure to violence and guns and…"

Just then, she interjected.

"It's helped to keep him alive. Carl can handle himself. He's like you, Rick. He wants to keep everyone safe. And yes, he's had to be tough and hard like you have, but he's also got kindness inside of him; he's loving, Rick, just like you."

They fell silent once more as Rick considered what Michonne was saying. Michonne did not mean to say it, but she got carried away in the moment. She felt as if she had no rights to be telling Rick about himself and his son, but she had spent increasingly more time with both of them, and felt it was a fair observation.

"Thank you," was all Rick said as he hid away a small grin.

* * *

For some reason, Michonne felt nervous sitting atop the watchtower that evening with Rick Grimes. He had asked her to accompany him, and she had obliged, to her chagrin, a little too eagerly. The clear night sky was dotted with radiant stars and the stillness of the evening was eerily quiet.

There was something about sitting next to Rick at night that Michonne found to be distracting; he seemed slightly anxious himself. The silence between them, which was usually comfortable, became thick. Just then, Rick began to speak.

"I've liked talkin' to you this past week. Glad you offered to walk with me that day you found me standing near the fence," he said sincerely.

"I like talking to you too," she replied, before adding. "Besides, I could tell you were seein' somethin' near the fence. Recognized the look."

Rick nodded, thankful that there was someone there that understood him.

"Does it ever stop hurtin'?" he asked candidly.

Michonne took a deep breath before she thought about how she would answer.

"Honestly, I don't know. I've been so numb for so long, and that's my fault. I shut down my feelings and focussed on surviving. But that's not a life. We've gotta hurt and heal and move on. That's life," she said before falling silent once more.

"I guess that being here, I've had the chance to think about things and I can honestly say that after all of the shit I've been through, bein' around other people has helped."

Rick remained quiet as he took in what Michonne had said; he felt there was a deep, unspoken connection between the two of them. Somehow, the beautiful and strong woman beside him truly understood him.

"You don't feel numb anymore?" Rick asked as he turned his head to look at Michonne; she looked at him too.

"Sometimes, but I'm getting better," she said somewhat sadly.

"I don't wanna be numb," he started, still holding her gaze. "I just wanna feel somethin' different."

Michonne nodded in agreement and found herself unable to draw her eyes away from Rick's. He tentatively reached his hand to her face and brushed the back of it over her smooth skin. Michonne found that her eyes had closed. It had been so long since someone had touched her with such gentleness. She took hold of Rick's hand and sidled up closer to him, they both leaned their faces closer and pressed a soft kiss to one another's lips. The moment of contact elicited profound pleasure from both Rick and Michonne and they endeavoured to deepen the kiss.

Michonne opened her mouth and received Rick's tongue as it circled her own slowly and sensually. They were both enjoying the feeling of touching and tasting another living, breathing human being. Michonne's lips were just as soft and full as Rick imagined they would be. They parted momentarily and she took the opportunity to straddle Rick's lap. His hands snaked all over her body as the tender moment quickly yielded to raw sexual desire.

Michonne suddenly stood and pulled Rick to his feet; she led him inside of the watchtower and turned on one of the lanterns. She ambled back over to Rick and captured his mouth again; he forced her back against the wall and deftly slipped her top over her head. His mouth fell to bare breast as Rick sucked her nipple into his mouth. Her loud moan caused him to grow hard and he became aware of the sound of her unclasping her belt.

Rick froze for a moment and stared at Michonne, half afraid and half aroused. Rick tried to stop her from undoing her jeans.

"We should stop," he said weakly, his hand grabbing hers.

Michonne ignored his request and took his hand and slipped it inside of her panties, rubbing her swollen nub with both Rick's fingers and her own. She kissed his mouth again and he pressed her harder against the wall. Relishing in the feeling of her wetness and the sounds that she was making, Rick gave in.

She pulled out of the kiss and stopped the guided rubbing before kicking off her boots and dropping her jeans. Stepping out of them, Michonne began to undo Rick's shirt and he let her pull it off of his shoulders; it then fell to the floor. She pressed her mouth to his neck to suck the skin and ran her fingers over his chest; Rick's eyes closed at the sensation. He felt a jolt encompass his body as soon as he felt Michonne's hand slide down the front of his jeans and grip his hardened length and give it a few strokes.

Rick pulled away from her suddenly, but she did not relent; she stepped closer and kissed him chastely before whispering in his ear.

"It's okay. We can do this."

She then sucked his earlobe into her mouth. Rick's hands found their way back to her hips and her hands found his aching member once more.

"I wanna feel something different, Rick. I wanna feel it with you," Michonne breathed heavily.

Upon hearing her seductive admission, Rick undid his belt and jeans pulled Michonne down to the floor. He lay on his back with his erection standing stiff in the air. Michonne knelt beside him and used her hand to stroke his hardness a few times while leaning over and kissing him. She removed her damp panties and straddled his legs. She kneeled over Rick, still holding his shaft, and guided the tip of his dripping sex to her hot opening before sliding her tightness down over his length.

* * *

After what seemed like forever amidst their sweat drenched limbs and primal exhalations, the exquisite sensation that had overcome both Rick and Michonne was almost torturous. She rocked on top of him and her breasts bounced heavily with each movement. Rick gripped her backside then stroked her smooth legs before kneading her plump breasts. Michonne repeated her movements as each ministration caused her core to shudder. She could feel the heat building up as her release neared. Michonne grabbed Rick's hands that were in place at her thighs and leaned backwards, grinding her hips harder and faster; spurred on by the loud moans that Rick was making below her.

Michonne felt her body stiffen in release as she came crashing on top of Rick who found his apex moments later. They both remained in place until the waves of their pleasure washed over them. She shifted her body and came to rest next to Rick; their chests both heaving and hearts pounding furiously.

"You okay?" she finally asked Rick as he moved to a sitting position and searched for his shirt.

He did not answer right away. She leaned up on her elbows and looked at him.

"Rick…"

"We shouldn't've done that," he said hoarsely.

"It's fine, I can't get pregnant if that's what you're worried about…" she started before he interrupted again.

"It's ain't that. I'm sorry, I don't know why I let that happen, Michonne. I shouldn't've been so weak. This can't happen again. I'm sorry."

* * *

_…__A circle of angels deep in war 'cause I wanted you._

_Weak as I am_

_No tears for you._

_Weak as I am_

_I'm no one's fool._

_As weak as I am._

* * *

A/N: Give the song a listen, it's a favourite of mine! Thanks for reading. There is more to come.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Bleeding

A/N: Hey everyone. Thanks for the reviews. I know this story is a sad one, and we still don't know what happened to Michonne, but we'll get there. What everyone said about Rick is absolutely right; he's conflicted and still seeing Lori's ghost and somehow doesn't want to ruin his and Michonne's friendship. Although, it's difficult to deny that there's a strong attraction there. I was a little surprised that no one mentioned Michonne being the one to take the lead when they made love. Rick yielded, of course, but is still feeling guilty (that bloody wedding band of his!). Okay, I'll focus on their near past a little longer before returning to the present day and finding out what happened to our girl!

* * *

I remember when all the games began

Remember every little lie and every last goodbye

Promises you broke, words you choked on

and I never walked away,

it's still a mystery to me…

* * *

"This can't happen again. I'm sorry," said Rick, choking slightly on the words he spoke; not fully believing them and not wanting them to hurt her.

Michonne did not even have time to bask in the afterglow of her climax; Rick was already dressing, regretting what they had done and offering a weak apology. He had said he did not want to feel numb and he had said he wanted to feel something different, but now Michonne could not tell what he felt. All she knew for sure was that she felt bad. She knew she did not read him wrong, that her attraction was reciprocated; what she found to be troubling was that Rick thought that what they did was wrong. His loyalty to his dead wife was overshadowing anything that could eventuate further between he and Michonne. She exhaled loudly and stood up, beginning to find her clothing.

Rick buttoned his shirt and tried with all of his will not to glance in Michonne's direction and watch her dress. He offered her no explanation as to why they could not come together again; he just folded his arms and sadly waited for Michonne to leave.

She zipped her pants and finally lifted her eyes to where Rick stood near the corner of the room; the dim light causing his shadow to be cast against the faded wall. Rick averted his eyes. Michonne smoothed out her clothing then considered sauntering over in his direction. Instead, she moved to lift the hatch and exit the tower. Before she climbed down, she looked at Rick once more and spoke.

"I'm not sorry it happened. You shouldn't feel bad," she said as their eyes met.

Michonne offered him a small, almost indistinguishable smile then departed; Rick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He could still smell her on his skin.

* * *

_Well I'm so empty_

_I'm better off without you and you're better off without me_

* * *

For the next few days, Rick did not meet Michonne down in the yard to walk and talk. He had been actively avoiding her, and she knew it. There was something that she had awoken inside of him, and he felt guilty about it. He felt bad that his wife was dead; he felt bad because he was alive and he felt something with someone else. Something for someone else.

_Michonne_. He hoped she would understand, yet, he did not understand what he was feeling himself.

As much as Rick expected to go on feeling sorrowful and empty, it was not the case. Michonne had swept through like a refreshing breeze on a warm summer's night that soothed his discomfort by gently caressing his skin. Was it wrong that he could find some semblance of happiness and passion again? Maybe so, but yet she felt so right.

At the same time that Rick was trying to convince himself that what Michonne had ignited within him was erroneous, he was also recalling her touch. How marvellous it was to taste her; how she had wanted him as much as he had wanted her. How soft her skin was under his coarse hands. Suddenly, he was torn from his daydream and remembered that he was standing in the vegetable garden. Had that much time really passed? He thought as he watched Michonne lead the horse up to the gates.

He knew she was leaving to track down the Governor, he just did not know that his body would react physically to her impending departure. Rick began to sweat more in addition to what his toiling in the sun had elicited. He felt his heart begin to race and his stomach drop. She was leaving and he was not comfortable with it. Yet, what could he do? He hadn't even spoken to her since they had been intimate; since he had chosen to put an end to it, whatever it was.

He could have quite easily walked over to where she was preparing to ride out, but Rick let his pride get in the way. He watched Michonne sadly as she bid their friends goodbye, mounted Flame and rode out of the gates. As he realized how dangerous her mission was, and how she may not return, Rick felt a little panic rise up inside his stomach; it gurgled under the surface just like his seething regret.

* * *

_I'm better off without you and you're better off without me_

_Well I'm so ugly_

_You're better off without me and I'm better off alone_

* * *

A/N: _The Bleeding_ by Five Finger Death Punch


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Stricken

A/N: Good day, everyone! Yes, it's been a while but I'm back to get some updates done on this one. This might be the last flashback, then we'll find out what has happened to Michonne in the present timeline.

* * *

_You walk on like a woman in suffering_

_Won't even bother now to tell me why_

_You come alone, letting all of us savour the moment_

_Leaving me broken another time…*_

The quick whistling sound caught Rick's attention as he glanced through the wire gate and up the dirt road. It was Michonne, she had returned. She had come back to them after two long weeks of being out on the road; out searching for their enemy. Out risking her life away from him. Even though they had not parted on good terms, Rick was still the one to rush over to the gate and allow her entry. Her hair bounced away from her face as she rode in swiftly on the back of her horse and came to a halt not too far away.

They had not spoken for days before she had rode out, yet in the time that had passed, Rick had _missed _Michonne. He thought of her every day of her absence when Carl would ask how long she was going to be gone for; when someone commented on how she should be heading back to the prison at any time; when he was alone in his cell thinking of how he missed the touch of her soft skin, something he had only just begun to know. Something he would never know again since he had cast her aside in favour of his self-deprecating guilt.

Rick could feel the relief wash over him now that he knew she was safe; he felt at ease, but he also felt anxious as he approached her. He did not think she would want to speak with him at all, but he was going to try.

"What do you want, Rick?" she asked as he came to stand beside her and the creature she was unloading.

He felt his stomach drop at the sound of her tone; she was not happy to see him.

"I wanted to say hello and welcome back," he said, quietly aware that others were headed in their direction to greet their friend also.

She looked at him incredulously. She recalled two weeks prior when he had ignored her for days after they had been intimate and then did not even attempt to reconcile with her before she had left.

"Really? You actually remember who I am now? That's great, Rick. But please, don't bother, I'm obviously not worth the trouble," was all she said before she led the horse away.

* * *

_I don't want to mention the reason I know_

_That I am stricken and can't let you go_

_When the heart is cold, there's no hope, and we know_

_That I am crippled by all that you've done_

_Into the abyss will I run…_

Michonne relayed the details of her expedition to the council members; gave Carl and Judith gifts she had procured; cleaned herself up; and sat through a communal dinner where she actively ignored Rick before she was afforded the opportunity to sleep. Her cell was dark and quiet; she could hear the faint sounds of laughter coming from elsewhere in the prison building. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to push the images of Rick's face out of her mind. In all honesty, she was conflicted. She knew that her feelings for him had been roused, but she also knew she was angry with him. She knew he had his own issues to work through, as did she; but she had hoped they could do it _together_. Maybe she should have swallowed her pride and accepted his attempt at speaking with her; maybe she did do the right thing by not yielding to him. Either way, Michonne could not ignore the slight aching in her chest whenever she thought about Rick.

* * *

Rick tried to quiet his mind in the solitude of his cell while his small daughter slept peacefully, but it was to no avail. Michonne's image kept flooding his mind; he felt like such a fool for turning her away. It was obvious that he had hurt her and rejected her. That was not what he intended to do. Rick did still crave her touch, but he was afraid of letting go of the past; he was afraid of opening himself up. Yet he knew from the time that they had spent apart, that the fear of losing Michonne was strong as well. He needed to open up a dialogue with her; he could not spend another day encompassed by thick, unforgiving silence when in her presence. They needed to find some resolve; they needed to find common ground.

Rick suddenly sat up on his bed and ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair. He sighed loudly and searched his quarters for his boots. Once he pulled them on, Rick made his way in the direction of Michonne's cell.

* * *

Michonne lit her lantern as she heard the slight rapping at her door; she sat up, covered her scantily clad bottom half with a sheet and then told her visitor to enter. Rick stopped at the doorway and stared a moment; he felt his breath hitch at the sight of her basking in the warm, dim glow of the lantern. Her sad, dark eyes wide with surprise at his audacity in going to see her after everything that had transpired between them.

"Can we talk?" he asked softly.

Michonne swallowed and then nodded her head in the affirmative. Surprisingly to her, he took up a seat next to her on the bed. He was close enough that she could smell the soil and sweat that was still on his skin; close enough that his heat warmed her bare arm.

"Look, I wanted to apologize for bein' distant with you before you left," he started. "It was silly of me."

"It was _juvenile_ of you, Rick," she added; he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it was. I wanted you to know that I was worried about you when you were out there. It was stupid of me not to say goodbye, but expect you to wanna be all chatty with me when you got back. I'm an asshole. I'm sorry," he said in earnest as they both held one another's gaze.

"Why'd you keep your distance? I thought we could at the very least still be friends," Michonne asked sadly.

Rick shrugged, sighed and wrung his hands together.

"I want us to be friends…" he said before she interjected.

"Well why'd you push me aside?" Michonne asked, feeling the frustration rise from deep within.

"I didn't push you aside," he retorted.

"Bullshit!" she said as she stood and walked to the wall; not caring that she was only wearing a tank top and panties.

"I wanted to give you space," he offered weakly.

"No, you wanted me out of your sight. You had to be pleased when I was gone," she said as she folded her arms over her chest.

"That's not true. I never wanted you to go. I missed you the whole time…"

"Rick, don't. Just don't…"

"What?" he asked, as he stood and walked towards Michonne.

"If you really cared that I was leaving, you would have at least spoken to me in the days leading up. You fuckin' acted like I didn't exist. No wait, you _fucked _me, and then acted like I didn't exist!"

"Michonne, it ain't even like that…"

"Well what's it like, Rick? Tell me so I can understand. Why'd you give me the cold shoulder if you wanted us to just be friends? Why?" she said as she stood closer to him.

"It's because of this," he said as he gestured to the short gap between them. "All of this; these fuckin' feelings or this attraction or whatever it is. It's overwhelming sometimes. You're like some flame that I keep gettin' drawn back to, Michonne. How are we gonna be friends when I can't even be around you because all I can think about is touchin' you?"

Michonne stopped at his admission and stared back into Rick's eyes. Then, without hesitation she grabbed his face and pressed her mouth to his. This time, Rick did not try to pull away; instead, he forced his tongue into her mouth and deepened their kiss as he walked Michonne backwards to the wall. Almost breathlessly, he broke their kiss and pulled her top from over her head and then lifted her so she had her legs wrapped about his waist. They devoured one another's mouths again in heated fervor.

Michonne gripped him tightly as he undid his zipper and freed himself; Rick pulled her panties roughly to the side, causing them to tear as he swiftly entered her moistened centre. Michonne whimpered at the sensation of being penetrated by Rick. He placed his hand over her mouth as he thrust into her to stifle the sounds that she made as he hit her core again and again. He bit down on Michonne's shoulder to silence his own moans as he closed his eyes and pushed upwards into her. Michonne shifted her head so that she could take Rick's fingers into her mouth. Her breathing became more frantic so Rick removed his hand and placed it at her backside before he kissed her mouth once more. Their hot breath was on each other's lips; their eyes were peering deep into one another while their bodies were united. They both relished in the feeling of releasing their pent up frustrations this way. Rick finally rested his head near Michonne's neck, closed his eyes got lost in how good it felt to be so close with her again. She whispered his name and Rick questioned how he had ever thought being with her in that way was wrong.

_You'll never know why your face has haunted me_

_My very soul has to bleed this time_

_Another hole in the wall of my inner defences_

_Leaving me breathless, the reason I know_

_That I am stricken and can't let you go…_

* * *

*_Stricken_ by Disturbed


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Wither

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any lyrics by Tech N9ne or Corey Taylor

A/N: Hi! It's been forever since I updated this one. So, please do give it a re-read if you like.

Recap: Michonne has left the prison and Daryl and Rick have gone after her. They find where she had killed a number of walkers, but it seems that someone has taken her. Picks up where chapter 6 left off. No more flashback chapters.

* * *

_I'll know when the pain is gone_

_And I can feel the wrong_

_Coming up through the cracks of my heart again_

There was a throbbing in Michonne's head as her eyes fluttered and then opened; she was indoors, it seemed and on her back on a bed of some sorts. The room was dark, save for the small glowing of some type of lantern off to her right. When she tried to sit up, the pain shot through her skull and she was overcome with vertigo; cautiously, she returned her head to the pillow. It was then that she noticed she had been restrained; bound to what she now realized was a cot. Her heart rate hastened as she came to realize the gravity of her current situation.

Michonne knew she was not alone in that room as she heard a faint rustling not too far away. She thought hard a moment as she tried to remember what had happened. She recalled coming up to the grassy clearing where the small group of walkers had set upon her. She remembered losing her footing and then the sound of shots being fired before her head connected with something hard and everything went blank.

_Fuck_. She thought quickly. _Someone saved me and brought me here._

Quietly, she tried the tethers that were fixed to both wrists but to no avail; they were fastened tight, as were her ankles. She figured if she was able to get some movement going in her extremities that the ties would be forced to loosen, but she could not risk it while her captor was in the same room. She had no idea of knowing if she was being held by one person or more. For now, Michonne would wait and see what they wanted with her; she was kept alive, so surely that meant something favourable.

There was a sudden noise like that of a bag being dragged across the floor; it appeared to be getting closer to her so Michonne held her breath.

"You don't need to pretend to be asleep anymore," said a masculine voice. "I know you're awake."

She remained silent still, preparing herself for what might follow. She was still weak from hunger and fatigue, but was determined to fight if she needed to. Suddenly, Michonne flinched as she felt cold water being sprinkled on her bare arms and near her face; the sensation made her become alert.

"What the fuck do you want?" she asked as she began to struggle; not at all amused by this person's antics.

"Ah, there you go. Welcome back," the man said as he crouched down beside her; his face obscured by the lack of light in the room.

Michonne did not say anything as he held the bottle of water to her mouth; she turned her head away.

"You first," she said evenly.

He chortled.

"Smart," was all he said before taking a sip from the bottle and wiping his mouth with the dirty sleeve of his torn shirt.

Seeing that it was safe to drink, she partook of the liquid while squinting her eyes in his direction; there was something familiar about his voice.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, hoping to receive some explanation.

"What are you doing out here on your own so far away from your camp?" he asked, avoiding her question.

"Like I said before," Michonne said evenly. "You first."

* * *

Daryl slung Michonne's katana over his shoulder and got Rick's attention.

"Hey, man; if this was an ambush, we gotta get movin' in case someone's watchin'," he said as he looked nervously around.

"We can't just leave her," said Rick sternly. "You said it yourself, someone took her. We've gotta find out who that is."

"It ain't smart to be standin' around here, Rick," Daryl said. "Let find some place safe while we work out our options here."

Rick felt the frustration growing inside of him; the utter fear that they were not going to find her in time. He nodded towards his friend and then heard a noise coming from a bunch of bushes; he quickly aimed his pistol in the direction of the sound and cocked it. Suddenly, what Rick thought was a walker stopped in its tracks. He was about to fire when the person raised their hands in surrender.

"Don't shoot," he said.

Rick's brow furrowed and then his eyes grew wide with recognition.

"Morgan?" asked Rick disbelievingly.

Daryl glanced at both men questioningly.

"Yeah, Rick. It's me," Morgan Jones said, stepping closer.

Rick did not lower his weapon.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Where's who?" Morgan queried.

"The woman who was here, with the sword; where is she? She goes missing and you stumble on the scene? That's too much of a coincidence. Now. Where. Is. She?" said Rick firmly as he stepped forward, pointing his revolver to Morgan's head.

"Woah. I didn't do anything to her…"

"But you saw here?" Daryl interjected.

"Yeah. She was almost overrun by a small herd, but then some guy saved her and took her with him. I thought they knew each other, but now you're sayin' she was taken?"

Daryl nodded his head: "Yeah."

"Well I know which way they went; which way he took her," said Morgan. "Follow me."

"Nah, man. This could be a trap. Y'all could be workin' together," said Daryl.

Morgan looked back at Rick.

"You know me. You can trust me, Rick," he said earnestly.

"I _knew_ you at the beginning," said Rick. "This world changes us."

"You're right," replied Morgan. "It does change us. It makes us _more_ of who we really are; more of that part of us that we kept hidden away all this time until the world went to shit. It makes us ruthless, never kinder. Do you think that stranger who has your lady friend is gonna be kind to her? Or is he gonna be ruthless? I can take you to 'em, Rick; or we can stand here and test how lucky she is. Your call."

Rick lowered his weapon.

_I'm holding on. _

_I'm going straight into the mouths of makers_

_Everything that keeps me calm was taken_

* * *

"I recognized you out there," the man said. "I watched and waited; but then those rotters almost got you and I thought, no way. Not until I have my time with you."

As her eyes became accustomed to the light, realization set in; the man whom Michonne had been searching for was right beside her.

"It's you," she said hoarsely. "I've been looking for you."

"I know," the man they used to call the Governor replied.

He placed his hand to Michonne's chin, and she tried to pull away; she jerked her body and fought against the binds as she warned him not to touch her again.

"That's good," he said flatly as his hand slid down to her throat. "I like it when they struggle."

_Just pushing on these old restraints_

_My time is up 'cause it's too late_

* * *

A/N: _Wither _by Tech N9ne feat. Corey Taylor from Slipknot


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Closer*

A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback!

Warning: this was difficult to write because of the violence. Reader discretion is advised.

* * *

_Stranded in this spooky town_

_Stoplights are swaying and the phone lines are down_

_Floor is crackling cold _

_She took my heart, I think she took my soul_

"We've lost the daylight," said Daryl to Rick. "Can't he just tell us where they are? Ain't this your home town, Rick? We can find her on our own."

"We'll move when it's clear," said Morgan.

Rick could barely focus on their back and forth as he wrestled with the demons inside of his head. He had pushed Michonne away and now, if anything bad had happened to her, he would not forgive himself.

"Yeah well now we're fuckin' trapped in here until that herd passes. Anything could be happenin' to her, and we're holed up like a bunch o' pussies," said Daryl, annoyed at the situation.

Rick pictured Michonne's face and the sadness that was etched across her beautiful features when he had last spoken to her. He imagined that his own face looked like hers did now as he realized she may very well be lost to him. They had been forced to take refuge in one of the shop fronts in the main part of town after meeting up with Morgan. Rick and Daryl realized the situation was dire as they still did not know who had taken Michonne.

He felt the pounding in his head grow louder the more he thought of not knowing her fate.

"Rick?"

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and started pacing once more.

"Rick?"

He stopped moving and stared at his friend.

"Rick? You okay?" asked Daryl.

"We're leaving," said Rick as he checked his revolver for bullets. "Now."

xXxXx

_Do you think of me?_

_Where am I now, baby?_

_Where do I sleep?_

Michonne felt light headed and starved of oxygen as Philip Blake released his tight hold on her throat; she coughed and struggled for air as her sight steadily became sharp once more. He was looking down at her with an expression of hate and disgust and something else she was not quite sure of.

He kicked the bag that lay at his feet and she heard the sound of several tools clanging against one another and she knew what it meant. Inside the bag were assorted torture implements that the Governor had obviously accumulated on his travels; why someone would think to gather such things was beyond Michonne. She tried to steady her breathing while she waited anxiously to see what his plan would be.

He seemed to be flustered as a crazed expression covered his face; she could just see the vein in his temple throbbing as his nostrils flared. His one good eye was bloodshot and widened; he stepped back and stared down at Michonne still.

"That'd be too easy," he said, low and gruff. "To take you out like that. Although I could just snap your neck like a twig, leave you here to rot and turn still tied up and stewing in your shit and vomit; covered in my piss. No. That's too easy on you. I want to take my time with you. I want to make you suffer."

He saw her struggling and laughed wryly, enjoying seeing the strong and skilled fighter powerless before him; at his mercy.

"Untie me and I'll give you a fair fight; just might take out your other eye," she spat defiantly.

"You've got a smart mouth, Michonne," he said as he kneeled beside her. "I'm gonna have fun shutting you up."

xXxXx

Rick plunged the blade of his hunting knife into the back of one of the passing walkers' skulls; before the others noticed, he and Daryl dragged it back indoors.

"What're you doin' with that?" asked Morgan.

Rick did not answer as he focused on disembowelling the corpse.

"We cover ourselves with their stink and we can move about next to 'em without bein' detected," offered Daryl as he rubbed a section of the putrid large intestine on his shirt.

Rick emptied the stomach contents onto his sleeves; he did not flinch as the overwhelming smell permeated the small space. Morgan looked at the two men incredulously before taking out his own knife and crouching beside them.

xXxXx

"Tough talk from a coward," said Michonne, intent of enraging her captor with the hope he would lose his focus.

The Governor swallowed hard and sighed; trying to hold his anger back so that he could enjoy what he was going to do to her. His rage would make him blind to the relief and pleasure that he would take in hurting her; he wanted to savor it. He reached for the bag on the floor and undid the zipper. He retrieved a large, rusted knife and held it where Michonne could clearly see it. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head to the side, exposing her neck; she struggled and he gripped her harder. Slowly, he pressed the blade to the side of her face; trailing it down her cheek and then to her throat. Michonne held her breath as the serrated edge moved dangerously close to her clavicle; she did not scream when it tore into her flesh.

_I see a storm bubbling up from the sea_

_And it's coming closer_

* * *

A/N: That was hard to write. I'm leaving it there and I need a hug now…

*_Closer_ by Kings of Leon


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Straight out the Gate*

A/N: Michonne's ordeal comes to an end, but where do they go to from there?

_When the sun's beam melts_

_Everyone screams help_

The loud ringing in Michonne's ears drowned out the whimpers that filled the small room as the blunt knife tore through her flesh. The pain was so intense that it felt as if the affected area was on fire; as if it burned. She clenched her teeth so tightly that her jaw began to ache, though the discomfort paled in comparison to what the rusted blade had inflicted on her.

Her eyes stung from the tears she had not meant to shed that streamed down the side of her face. She held her breath as the maniac continued with his assault and the small cries died down; Michonne did not even realize that pained sounds were coming from her. When the Governor, at the very apex of his lust for savagery, twisted the knife into her chest, Michonne let out a piercing cry, even though she felt as if she had made no sound at all.

xXxXx

"There," said Daryl. "Did you hear that?"

"It's her," Rick said as he moved quickly towards the door of the studio apartment that was above an old bakery.

He rushed towards the door and tried the knob; it was unlocked so Rick turned it and entered the room. He saw a man kneeling down beside a cot; he lifted his Colt instinctively. When his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he realized it was Michonne who was lying on the small frame.

"Step back or I slit her throat," said the man as he looked in their direction, not moving the weapon from where it was lodged.

Rick cocked his weapon and both Morgan and Daryl stood in place with their own weapons drawn, awaiting Rick's signal.

"Drop the knife, asshole," he spat. "Or I fill you full o' lead."

Michonne was only vaguely aware of the voices in the room as the pain has caused her to lose consciousness a moment. She let out another cry as the knife was withdrawn from her flesh. Rick forgot all of his years of training with the Sheriff's Department and panicked from fear for her safety. He pulled his trigger just as the Governor pressed the blade to Michonne's neck. As the bullet entered the side of his head, Philip Blake fell to the floor and Rick rushed towards Michonne.

_Go ahead and seal your fate_

Rick kneeled down beside Michonne and frantically checked her over. The knife had grazed her neck, but was not sharp enough to make a deep incision. He looked around the room as Daryl came to his aid and Morgan searched for the room for something, anything, that would help to stop the blood from pouring out of the deep gash. Impatient, Rick tore a piece of Michonne's clothing to cover her wounds as she drifted off once more.

xXxXx

Her cracked lips were the first thing Michonne noticed as she opened her mouth slightly to breathe in the dank air. Blinking rapidly a few times, she slowly grew accustomed to the dim light. Her head was spinning as she went to sit up, but pain shot through her chest when she tried to move. She heard a shuffling sound close by, but before she could turn her head, Rick was hovering over her.

"Rick?" she managed in a dry whisper; a smile crossing her face even though she was weak as she tried once more to sit up.

"Shhh," he offered. "Don't move. You're in bad shape."

"The Governor…"

"He's dead," said Rick. "I got him."

Michonne nodded.

"What are you doing here?" she asked hoarsely.

Rick found a bottle of water and removed the lid before holding it close to her parched lips. She lifted her head slightly and drank the cool liquid down; it felt as though it had spread through her chest. She gave Rick a grateful look before speaking once more.

"Rick, what're you doing here?" she asked.

"I came for you," he stated, in a matter-of-fact manner.

Michonne reached her hand out and gestured for Rick to help her sit. She noticed that there was a bandage covering her chest where Philip Blake had wounded her; her wrists were raw from where he had bound her. She still felt drained from lack of sustenance as her tired eyes stared into Rick's.

"Why?" she asked sadly. "Why did you come, Rick?"

Rick ran both hands from the front of his hairline to the back of his head.

"I needed to," he offered softly. "I couldn't let you go like that. I finally made a choice that wasn't bullshit. I, uh…"

His train of thought was interrupted by Daryl and Morgan entering the room. Michonne looked over at them and gave Daryl a wry smile; she looked questioningly at Morgan. Daryl approached and set a rucksack down on the floor.

"Glad to see you're okay," he said to Michonne, genuinely happy.

"Yeah," she offered. "Thanks for showing up when you did."

"Yeah, this asshole's stubborn like that," he said referring to Rick who sat quietly on the floor close by.

Michonne laughed a little and glanced over at Rick.

"So, who's your friend?" she asked, looking at Morgan.

"This is Morgan. He was the first person I met after I woke up," Rick explained. "He saved my life back then, and just now showed us where you were."

Michonne nodded in his direction.

"Thank you," she said in earnest, before training her eyes back on Rick.

They all fell into comfortable silence while Daryl retrieved a few cans of food from the bag. Morgan found a corner to settle into while Rick and Michonne sat in silence. They had parted on bad terms and now Michonne felt vulnerable. She had told Rick that she loved him because she thought she would never see him again, and now he sat across from her with pleading blue eyes, not saying the words she needed him to say but feeling exactly how she wanted him to feel.

Rick held her gaze as she looked at him expectantly; he sighed and went to speak.

"Here," said Daryl, interrupting their moment. "I found this. Thought you might need it."

In his hand he held out Michonne's katana; she smiled gratefully at her friend. She turned back to Rick in time to see him clamber to his feet. The moment between them was lost as he walked to the window and peered out into the darkness.

"Eat up and get some rest," he said to no one in particular. "We'll leave at first light."

_We are the darkness but we're leaving_

_We are the gods that are deceiving_

_We are the painters of blind faith…_

_Straight out the gate_

A/N: Will Michonne return to the prison? Will she and Rick get a moment alone to talk? More to come!

*by Tech N9ne feat. Serj Tankian


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Schism*

A/N: Thanks so much to those who read and reviewed the last instalment. This has always been a favourite fic of mine to write so I'm pleased to see people are still receptive to it. Thanks!

* * *

_I know the pieces fit  
'Cause I watched them fall away  
Mildewed and smouldering  
Fundamental differing  
Pure intention juxtaposed  
Will set two lovers' souls in motion  
Disintegrating as it goes  
Testing our communication_

The early morning sky had barely begun to change from darkness to light when Rick began to gather up supplies that Philip Blake had accumulated in his hideaway. He had slept terribly, though relieved that they had found Michonne. _Michonne._ His heart ached to think of the horrors she had endured at the hands of that monster; guilt seethed in the pit of his stomach as he swallowed hard and tried to force it downward. He wished he had not been so foolish in the first place and pushed her away; now, as Rick watched her struggle to sit, he felt an overwhelming urge to hold her close.

"Hey," he said softly. "You hungry?"

Of course she was, he reasoned as he silently reprimanded himself for his foolish question.

"Yeah," said Michonne as she nodded.

Rick searched the bag he was packing for one of the cans he had just packed.

"Braised steak or beans?" he asked, holding two cans up for her to choose from. "Or both?"

"Beans are fine," she said quietly.

Rick placed the other can back into the backpack.

"You want me to warm it up for you?" he asked as he searched for a spoon, found one and then walked towards Michonne.

"No, thank you," she offered cordially.

Rick passed the food to Michonne and she offered him a small, albeit weak smile; grateful for the sustenance.

"How do you feel?" asked Rick, not sure of what else to say; he handed over his bottle of water to her which she took.

Michonne shrugged.

"I've been better," she said in earnest. "Just tired and sore."

Rick nodded as he thought of what needed to be said. Michonne busied herself opening the can and eating in silence. Rick turned away awkwardly and went back to packing away supplies; he knew he needed to say something before Daryl returned after taking watch. He glanced in her direction, zipped up the backpack, and then ambled over; he squatted down in front of her. Michonne lifted her eyes to meet his gaze and looked at him expectantly, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Michonne, I'm sorry," said Rick sincerely. "I'm sorry for hurtin' you and pushin' you away. I'm sorry this all got outta hand."

She stared at him, but said nothing as she swallowed her disappointing breakfast; Rick returned her stare expectantly. Finally, Michonne nodded her head. She was accepting his apology, but still had no words for him. The mood hung heavy over the pair as Rick shifted, uneasy in the silence. Another moment passed as Michonne slowly continued eating.

"Are you gonna say somethin'?" asked Rick, causing her to look him.

"Are you gonna listen?" Michonne countered; just then, Daryl came through the door.

_The light that feuled our fire then  
Has a burned a hole between us so  
We cannot see to reach an end  
Crippling our communication_

"I didn't think she was gonna come back with us," said Daryl as he and Rick siphoned gas from one of the abandoned vehicles that was parked up an alleyway. "How'd you convince her?"

Rick shook his head.

"I don't know. I just asked her," he said remembering her words.

_Is that really what you want, Rick? Because I'm not sure if you know what you want…_

"I guess it came down to her bein' grateful that we got here when we did," he added, her words fresh in his mind.

_I owe you this time, for saving me; I appreciate it, I really do. But it's going to take some time to forgive you for the other stuff. You really hurt me and I'm going to need time to get past that. You understand? _

"That's good, then," Daryl proffered. "I'm glad."

"Me too," he said. "Me too."

xXxXx

_I know the pieces fit  
'Cause I watched them tumble down  
No fault, none to blame  
It doesn't mean I don't desire to  
Point the finger, blame the other  
Watch the temple topple over  
To bring the pieces back together  
Rediscover communication_

The return trip to the prison was quiet; Rick and Daryl were both men of few words; Michonne slept in the backseat and Morgan really had nothing to say. They reached their destination by mid-morning, thanks to Rick's focussed yet hasty driving. Carol let them in the gates and Carl rushed down to meet them.

Michonne's face lit up when she saw him sprinting towards them looking both excited and relieved. She straightened up in her seat as the car came to a halt. Rick looked at her in the rear-view mirror and his heart swelled when he saw the love in her eyes for his son. He switched off the engine and then turned to Michonne.

"He's happy to see you," he offered as she smiled brightly.

Carl reached for the car door and opened it; he waited for Michonne to step out but then his brow furrowed when he noticed she was moving with difficulty.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking from Michonne to Rick.

"I will be," she answered.

Rick and Carl embraced before the older of the Grimes went to assist Michonne.

"I'm okay," she insisted, but Rick did not falter; he held his hand out to her and she reluctantly took it.

As soon as she stood, and Rick moved out of her way, Carl stepped forward and waited; she held her arms out and waited for him to fall into them. He was hesitant at first as he noticed the bandages that she wore, but she drew him in and both were happy to be holding the other.

Rick let them have their private moment as he spoke to Morgan and unloaded the supplies they had found. His friend had agreed to journey back with them and check out their community; Morgan agreed to try to be around other survivors and Rick was only too happy to have him there. He noticed the man he had once knows was changed because of what he had lost and Rick's heart went out to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rick noticed Michonne and Carl moving away and heading in the direction of the buildings. He excused himself and trotted after them.

"Hey," he called and they both stopped. "I'm just gonna get Morgan settled and then I'll come and see you, if that's okay?"

"I think I'm just gonna rest up," she said softly. "I'm pretty tired."

Disappointed, but understanding that she still needed some space, Rick nodded his head. He would wait until she was ready to talk about them, about anything, really. He sighed, ran the back of his hand over his mouth and watched her walk away.

_There was a time that the pieces fit_

_But I watched them fall away_

_Mildewed and smouldering_

_Strangled by our coveting_

_I've done the math enough to know_

_The dangers of our second guessing_

_Doomed to crumble unless we grow_

_And strengthen our communication_

* * *

A/N: Who's ready to see them patch things up? I know I am! More to come!

*by Tool


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Romeo and Juliet*

A/N: Thanks for your patience!

* * *

_The dice was loaded from the start_

_And I bet, then you exploded in my heart_

_And I forget, I forget the movie song_

_When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong…_

"It's as if she's been asleep for days," said Rick as he and Hershel walked down to the garden area; the older man struggled slightly as the younger trudged at a slower pace to accommodate.

"She's been through a lot," Hershel reminded him, in that soft yet wise way he always did. "She'll be back to her old self soon enough."

They reached their destination and Rick retrieved the gloves from his back pocket.

"What if she doesn't?" asked Rick as he fixed the gloves to his hand and reached for the shovel that was in the same place he had left it the day before. "What if everything's too fucked up between us?"

"She came back with you, didn't she?" asked Hershel as Rick nodded. "Then things ain't entirely broken between you two."

Hershel looked down at the tomato vine that had taken root and was now flourishing.

"Remember this?" he asked as he pointed to the plant.

Rick tilted his head and looked at him questioningly.

"Yeah," was all that he said in response.

"Remember how it came from that piece of the vine that was torn off; the bit that was broken?" Hershel asked.

"You told me not to throw it away. You said to plant it in the ground and that it'd take root soon enough," Rick recalled as Hershel smiled.

"That's right," said Hershel as he pulled the ripe tomato from the plant and then tossed it to Rick, who caught it with one hand. "Don't you forget, things break but they can still grow. Who knows what a little patience, time and care will do for you and Michonne. Who knows how the both of you will grow and what fruit you might bear."

Rick looked down at the red tomato in his hand and then smiled up at his mentor; he knew he was not the most patient man, and he was unsure of how much time they had, but he was certain that he cared for Michonne. He was certain of his love for her.

xXxXx

Rick knocked thrice on the wall just outside of Michonne's cell; he waited and knocked three more times. He voice was soft as she bade him to enter the small space. She sat up with a little difficulty and rubbed her eyes.

"Hey," said Rick; she gave no response but reached for her water bottle.

His eyes fell to the bandages that were plastered to her skin and a pang of guilt rose within him once again. He walked closer to her and then held out something in his hand.

"I thought you might want first dibs," Rick offered with a small smile; he noticed she pulled away quickly as their fingers grazed when she took the tomato from him.

"Thanks," said Michonne, her demeanor a little less icy.

"May I sit?" asked Rick as he gestured toward the metal chair near the table; Michonne nodded.

"Thank you for coming for me," said Michonne quietly, her gaze averted; she found it too difficult to look him in the eye. The wounds inside of her, the ones he could not see, were still too fresh.

"You don't have to thank me," said Rick. "I wanted to apologize again, for how I treated you."

"I get it," she said. "I always thought that you and I were on the same page most of the time. This time, we just weren't. I can accept that now."

Rick nodded, not sure of what else he should say.

"Let's just try to put it all behind us," Michonne offered. "I'm too tired to be at odds with you, Rick. Let's just get on with it."

"Okay," he said a little hesitantly. "If that's what you want…"

"It's what I _need_ from you right now. To try to be friends again; _just friends_. And it's best for both of us, so if you don't mind, I'd like to get some more rest," said Michonne as she reclined in the bed; Rick nodded in her direction, stood and then moved to exit her room; he stopped at the door about to say something further, instead he offered a smile and left.

xXxXx

_And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be…_

The tapping of Rick's boots echoed up the dank corridor as he approached the showers. He checked the time on his watch before he removed it and placed it down in his cell before leaving; it was somewhere between midnight and one o'clock by the time he settled Judith back to sleep and was able to wash the day's grime from him. As he stepped into the room, he saw the flickering of a lamp that hung from one of the walls; Rick stopped in his track when he realized someone was there, seeing their silhouette behind the torn curtain.

"Sorry," he called out, turning on his heel. "Didn't think anyone was here. Leaving now."

He walked to the door before he heard a soft voice calling his name; a voice that penetrated his chest.

"Rick? Is that you?" she called. "Can you help me a minute?"

He had to stop himself from rushing to Michonne at her request; instead, he took a deep breath to still himself.

"Sure," he replied without moving an inch. "What'd you need?"

"Could you come here?" she asked.

Rick set his towel land clothing aside and went to where her figure swayed behind the veil. He found Michonne wearing only sweatpants trying to pull her top over her head; she winced out of pain and tossed the garment to Rick.

"I need help getting this on," she said in a matter-of-fact manner. "I can't lift my shoulder properly and I needed to have a shower."

Rick looked down at the top, then back at Michonne; he tried not to let his gaze fall to her bare chest.

"At this hour?" he asked, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Michonne snorted.

"You're not the only one who can't get sleep around here," she offered.

"You slept all day," Rick countered, his hand brushing over her clean, smooth skin; the pleasant aroma of wild flowers and soap helping to awaken his senses.

"Well I'm awake now," she replied, fixing the hem of her top.

Rick's eyes took in the way the small gleams of light reflected in the droplets of water that caressed Michonne's body. He was still so mesmerized by her beauty and forgot himself a moment; he wanted so desperately to reach out and touch her, but thought better of it when he heard her saying his name.

"Rick?" asked Michonne, noticing he had gone for a moment; been enveloped in his own thoughts.

"Yeah? Sorry," he answered, instinctively taking a step backwards.

"Thanks," she said softly, noticing how the light gleamed in his eyes.

Silence pervaded the damp air as Rick and Michonne held each other's gaze; the tension between them palpable. For Rick, it was as if the rest of the world had fallen away in that moment as he recalled what it was like to touch and taste Michonne; how well they fit together; how she held a special place in his heart; and how the fear of losing her was greater than his own doubt about what she meant to him.

When he peered deep into her eyes, he could feel himself being drawn closer to her. The reasoning and clarity that both had promised themselves they would subscribe to seemed to slip away the longer they stood and stared at each other in the dimly lit room.

_…__I love you like the stars above, I'll love you 'til I die…_

As if his better judgement held no bearing for him, as if the thoughts that had stopped him from acting on his desires just a moment before had disappeared, Rick stepped closer to Michonne. His eyes shifted from hers down to her lips and moved slowly back up; all she had to do to enchant him was to return his gaze and Rick was lost. He was lost in her and no amount of reasoning could drag him away. Hurriedly, messily, Rick captured Michonne's lips with his; his impatient tongue seeking entrance to her eager mouth as they deepened the kiss. His hand found her round backside as he gripped it tightly, relishing in the feeling of her perfect form.

She grasped the collar of his shirt with one hand as he walked her backwards toward the wall. Michonne could feel his hardness immediately when he pinned her against the cold concrete that was cool against her almost feverish skin; all the while Rick's touch seared her flesh. They pulled apart and broke their kiss as Michonne caught her breath; inhaling quickly through swollen lips and fighting so hard to regain some control and come to her senses.

"Rick."

His calloused hand moved smoothly over her bare breast after he worked his hand up under her top. He was careful of her wound as his attentions caused her pert nipple to stiffen; the heat pooled at her delta between her thighs.

_"__Rick."_

He nipped and lapped at the soft skin of her neck, almost too keen to devour her.

"Rick, please," said Michonne; her determination and steadfastness to start anew as just a friend to Rick dwindling rapidly when his fingers found their way into her pants.

"I'm sorry for everything," he breathed heavily. "Let me show you how sorry I am."

His sex quivered when he discovered Michonne to be as aroused as he was; his fingers, wet from her arousal, trailed over her slickened folds.

_"__Rick,"_ she moaned, setting him harder still. "Please don't make this any more difficult for me…"

Their lips met again as he silenced her.

"Do you want this?" he whispered close to her ear before brushing his thumb over her swollen nub; causing her to shudder pleasantly.

"_Oh, god_. Rick, _please_. We should stop," Michonne said as her eyes rolled shut.

She reached for his hand and forced him to cease his ministrations.

"We shouldn't do this," she offered, fighting the urge to let him have her up against the wall.

Rick's face was flushed and his erection was pressed painfully against his jeans, begging to be freed. The desire was evident in his eyes as flickers of light danced in them. Michonne took a deep breath then placed a hand to Rick's chest, gently edging him backwards away from her.

"We shouldn't do this anymore. I'm sorry," she said in earnest before stepping around Rick and leaving him standing there disappointed and in need of a cold shower.

_When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong?_

* * *

_*Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Lost*

A/N: This takes place a few weeks after the events of the previous chapter and then there is another time shift. Enjoy!

* * *

_What was I waiting for_

_Waiting for the bubble to burst_

_Over your stagnant pauses_

The heat was already present even though it was early morning; the Council was meeting to see who out of the growing group would be ready to venture out on runs. Rick stood at the front of the room with Hershel and Daryl; while he had relinquished any autocratic leadership of the prison, he still commanded attention as if he were the one and only person in charge of running the community. Michonne stood towards the back of the room and eyed him curiously; there was something about Rick that drew her to him, despite herself and her heart. She mused it must have been the same for the others who were now gathered in the room; his presence was understated but enticing. She could see why people would easily follow him and put their trust in him. She had done the same, after all, and was still there. Even after everything they had been through together, Michonne still remained there, though things between them had changed decidedly. Her eyes met Rick's a moment before she dropped her head.

They kept their distance from one another just as Michonne had requested. They did not engage in conversation much as Rick was busy with trying to accommodate for their ever-increasing numbers and Michonne was trying to heal, inside and out. Both of them were making good strides.

"We're not askin' people to do anything that they're not comfortable with," said Rick. "We just need to know who's capable and able."

Michonne lifted her head at the sound of his voice.

"I'll go," she said evenly; loudly enough for people to turn their heads in her direction.

Rick narrowed his eyes and gave her a questioning look.

"If there are some people who aren't sure about how we handle the supply runs around here, I'll go and help show them the ropes," she added.

"Well if that's the case, then sign me up," said a man whose name escaped Rick's memory.

"Hold on," Rick interjected. "That's not a good idea. Michonne isn't fully healed at the moment. While I do want it to be one of our more experienced people helpin' the not-so-experienced ones, I don't want Michonne back out there just yet."

"Rick…" she started to argue.

"I'm gonna have to agree with Rick," said Hershel, interrupting Michonne and stopping an argument between them. "Vet's orders."

He smiled at Michonne and she felt the quick building ire calming down; she could see their point, but she just wished Rick would not speak about her like she was not in the room. She conceded, but hung back after the meeting had concluded. Rick finished talking quietly with one of the newcomers and then looked at Michonne when they were finally alone.

"You okay?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting on one of the desktops.

"Yes, Rick, I'm okay," said Michonne, keeping her distance. "Wanna tell me what that was really about?"

Rick sighed.

"You're not ready to get back out there," he said in a matter-of-fact manner.

"How would you know?" she asked. "You haven't said more than five words to me in weeks."

Rick stood up straight.

"That's because you didn't want me to," he offered.

Now Michonne sighed before shaking her head.

"I'm not going to get into a fight with you so that this will all be easier on you…"

"Oh come on," he said incredulously. "You really gonna try to take the high road here, Michonne? I _am_ tryin' to make this whole thing easier, but that has nothin' to do with the fact that I don't want you out there so soon."

"Really? Since you're being honest here, just spit it all out," she challenged.

He wanted to tell her that there was no way he wanted her out of his sight again; that even if they were not together, he still wanted her to be safe. That he wanted to protect her from anything bad ever happening to her again; but he knew how that would sound. It would sound as if he was still in love with her, and she wanted them to go back to the way they were before, so he lied.

"You'd be a liability," he whispered softly, gently. "I know you're capable, but you're not one hundred percent, Michonne. If we're gonna train the new people, we need to be at our best. You're still healing. Please, just heal some more."

Michonne listened; she was not quite convinced with the first part of his speech, but there was something about the way in which Rick pleaded with her to find healing. It was as if he was speaking of matters of the heart, and not of the physical wounds that she carried.

"Okay," she said after a moment. "Once I heal, I can come to you?"

"Yes," Rick offered in an overeager manner. "When you're healed, then we can talk."

xXxXx

_Days spin through my heart_

_That sever the love_

_Kill all the pain with shame_

The majority of the residents of the prison were still asleep in the early morning; those changing over their sentry duty or getting ready to go on scheduled runs were in the mess hall taking breakfast. Rick stood waiting for the hot water to boil so that he could prepare formula for Judith when Michonne walked into the room. She grabbed a protein bar and bottle of water before noticing him. She offered a small nod and he smile at her amicably; Rick noticed that she was dressed with her katana strapped to her back. She smiled back at him and then quickly made her exit as he was left there to wonder what she was doing.

_I won't be lost without you_

_I've found a way to get through_

_Now I'm up and running…_

_I won't be lost_

Rick squinted in the early dawn of the day as he peered out across the prison yard. His heart skipped a beat when he noticed Michonne standing outside of the fence with her katana drawn and a small group of walkers in front of her. His instinct to protect her kicked in before he could further process the scene and Rick broke into a sprint with his weapon drawn. The worry forcing him forward as adrenaline fuelled his haste.

Michonne swung her sword and lopped the heads off of two of the fast-moving walkers; she then struck at another, cleanly decapitating the creature as its head rolled away. She squared her stance to dispatch the final walker that had stumbled slightly over the bodies of it fallen companions. Before she knew what was happening, the sound of a gun rang out and the walker dropped to the ground as a single bullet passed through its head.

A little surprised, Michonne looked in the direction that the shot came from and saw Rick through the fence; his chest heaving as he searched the immediate area before catching her gaze.

"Rick? What are you doing?" she asked with her hands raised.

"Are you okay?" he asked before trotting off to the area of the fence that was altered to allow for quick exit and entry.

He climbed through the hole, secured it and then walked over to Michonne.

"I'm fine, Rick. I had it under control," she offered as a straggler approached; Michonne cut it down.

"Why are you out here?" he asked as he scanned the shrubbery behind her for more threats.

"I'm training," she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "My shoulder is better, but I needed moving targets to make sure I'm still quick enough."

Rick tilted his head and narrowed his eye before letting out a small chuckle.

"You're trainin'?" he asked. "You scared the shit outta me."

She shrugged and offered a little grin before raising her eyebrows.

"Sorry," Michonne said before cutting down another lone walker that came up behind Rick. "I didn't mean to worry you. I'm just a little rusty. Wanted to be at my best before I put my hand up for the run coming up at the end of the week."

Rick nodded and placed his gun back into its holster.

"Come on. Let's get back inside and then we can talk about it," he said before turning to the small, almost invisible entrance and opening it.

Michonne stepped through first and then turned to watch Rick's back as he climbed through. She watched him fasten the opening shut and wipe his hands on his jeans.

"We'll get those cleaned up later," he said before glancing at Michonne. "You really feel better?"

She nodded, "I do. Just need to get back into the swing of things, know what I mean?"

"Yeah," said Rick as he started to walk, urging Michonne to fall into stride beside him. "I didn't know you were out here training, though."

"Oh," she said shaking her head. "This was my first morning out here."

Rick raised his eyebrows at her, still finding it remarkable how truly amazed by her he still was.

"Well, from what I've seen, I'd say you don't need any more practice," he said.

They both smiled and walked in silence for a few steps.

"I've been meaning to ask you, did you want to come with me and Carl tomorrow? I was gonna spend the day showing him how to set snares and catch rabbits," said Rick with a hopefulness to his tone.

Michonne smiled, "I'd like that."

"I thought you must be goin' stir-crazy stuck in here," said Rick.

Chuckling, Michonne glanced over at Rick walking beside her.

"You know me too well," she admitted, causing a little grin to play on his face.

* * *

A/N: Are things looking up for them? By the way, the title of the next chapter is _Today Was a Good Day _:)

*_Lost _by Skin


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Today Was a Good Day*

A/N: A different tone to previous chapters.

* * *

The sun, though new, shone brightly through the window. By the time that Rick had crawled out of his small, lonely bunk, Judith was already awake; she kicked her sock-covered feet and lifted her chubby little legs as high as they would go into the air. Her small murmuring alerting her father to the fact that she was ready to start the day, just as he was. Rick pulled on his socks and boots and approached her crib, greeting her warmly before picking her up. She baby clung tightly to her father's shoulder as she made the usual sounds that meant she was hungry; she was a good baby and hardly ever cried anymore. Rick mused that she was somehow aware of their predicament in the world. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, picked up her discarded bottle and then they left his small cell and proceeded to walk towards the mess hall.

When Rick and Judith entered the room, a few people were drowsily making coffee and eating their breakfast; Rick was surprised to see Carl in there at that hour of the morning. He approached his son who seemed to be in good spirits.

"Hey," said Rick. "What are you doin' up so early?"

"Oh hey, Dad," Carl replied before reaching out his arms to take Judith into an embrace; he tickled her tummy and peppered kisses over her plump face. "Just packing our lunch for today."

Rick set the bottle down, unlidded the formula and then placed two scoops into said bottle; he poured the hot water in next and gave it a thorough shake. He glanced over at his children and then raised his eyebrow at Carl.

"You're on the ball today, son," he offered.

"Yeah, well I can't wait to actually go out today," replied Carl excitedly. "Plus Michonne is coming with us, so that's gonna make it ten times as awesome."

Rick could not help but smile at his son's reasoning because he was in agreement with him; having Michonne with them just made everything seem better. He nodded his head and then went to take a seat.

"I hear you," said Rick as Carl handed his little sister back to their father and gathered up the lunches he had made and placed them in his backpack before he took a seat.

"So the two of you are okay now?" asked Carl; Rick was slightly surprised by the question. He knew Carl was privy to some issues regarding his estrangement from Michonne in the first instance, but he thought that them keeping their distance was only between them. It seemed, however, Carl had noticed.

"Yeah," replied Rick. "We're good. Why d'ya ask?"

"I don't know," Carl answered. "Just feels like you don't hang out together as much as you did before she left."

"We've been pretty busy with the newcomers and tryin' to get this place fortified. Plus she ain't been in the best of health," Rick explained as Carl listened.

"I'm glad she's better now," said Carl. "That way we can hang out together and do things like we used to. I really missed her, Dad."

Rick smiled, "Yeah, son. I missed her too."

xXxXx

The area surrounding the prison fence was surprisingly quite that morning as Michonne and Rick walked at a steady pace with Carl between them; each alert as they sound of twigs snapped underfoot. Rick carried the materials they would need to set some more snares, Carl carried their packed lunch, and Michonne's hands were free; she mused that it was a nice day to go for a walk. Rick stepped ahead of them as the path narrowed and led them to a place that was just off the track.

"This looks like a good spot," he said in hushed tones as he kneeled down to the ground. "Come here."

Carl walked over to where Rick was as Michonne scanned the area once more to ensure they were safe, she then made her way over to father and son. Rick smiled up at her as she lowered herself down to get a closer look at the spot he was examining; she responded in kind.

"So, why this spot?" asked Michonne of Rick.

"Well," he started. "See here, this is their natural path."

"This trail here?" asked Carl as he gestured with his hand to the cleared area that ran through the shrubbery.

"Yeah," said Rick. "That's it. What we do is tie this loop, fasten it to something secure like a tree or log, and then wait for a rabbit to run through and get caught. There's nothin' to it, really." Michonne and Carl nodded their heads and looked at each other, both thinking that day was going to be pretty easy going.

"Okay," said Michonne. "I think we've got a fair idea of how this all works, wouldn't you say, Carl?"

"Yeah," replied the boy. "We got this."

Rick chuckled at how they seemed to play off of each other with their confidence.

"So, where are these other traps you set?" asked Michonne.

"Just up along the way," Rick replied. "Carl, follow the path up ahead and see if you can see somethin'. That's what we do; just follow along this path."

Carl nodded his head and did as he was asked; he was pleased that his father trusted in his ability enough not to be hounding him. Most of the other children who were Carl's age were not as adept as he was at taking care of himself or a situation.

The adults, while keeping an eye on the boy and their surroundings, fell back a few paces and walked side-by-side. Rick took the opportunity to steal a glance at Michonne; she looked to be contemplating something and spoke before he could ask her what she was thinking.

"You're good at all of this," she offered. "Hunting and trapping. I always thought it was more in Daryl's purview. I never really gave it much thought how good you were as well."

She spoke in hushed tones and kept her eyes on Carl just ahead of them.

"Where did you learn?" she asked, genuinely interested; there was no need for small talk between the two of them, so if Michonne was asking then she really wanted to know the answer.

"Just a thing that most of the kids I grew up with knew, I guess," Rick said as he looked sideways at Michonne, appreciating her profile. "We used to ride our bikes down to this path along the river where we had some traps set. I must've been thirteen or fourteen at the time. We'd catch 'em, skin 'em, take 'em home for eatin' and then sell the pelts to Jackson's Saddlery. Ten bucks for the hide from a full grown rabbit, five for the kits. It was a good little enterprise there for a while. Those were some good times."

Now Michonne looked at him; the smile he wore was one of nostalgia and a hint of sadness. She hesitated a moment, before reaching her hand out and placing it to his upper arm where she gave a gentle squeeze and then let her hand drop back to her side.

"It's kind of funny, isn't it?" she asked.

"What's that?" was Rick's response.

"How little you and I know about each other," she offered. "How little we know about one another before we met."

Rick nodded his head; "Would you tell me if I asked?" he queried.

Michonne shrugged as she replied, "Probably. Just maybe not today."

She smiled sweetly and walked along ahead of him; she turned and looked back at Rick.

"Would you even be interested in knowing more about me?" she asked, holding his gaze.

"Yeah," replied Rick earnestly. "_Yes_."

xXxXx

"It's so good to be outside of the prison," said Michonne as she stepped out from the backdoor of the house she and Carl had just cleared. "I know it's great for safety reasons, but it's just so…I don't know, _depressing_."

Rick looked up from the place in the backyard where he had set up a couple of chairs at a table.

"So, was I right?" he asked as Michonne and Carl ambled over to where he sat with a bundle of dead rabbits tethered together atop the plastic garden table.

"Yeah," said Carl. "It's much nicer out here in the sun. Something really stinks in there."

"But if we _are_ gonna eat out here, you've gotta put those dead bunnies away, Rick," said Michonne; father and son laughed as she scrunched up her nose.

"Okay," said Rick as he removed the animals and took out the lunch that Carl had prepared for them. "And we've gotta make it quick before the bunnies start to stink."

Carl and Michonne rolled their eyes at Rick's poor attempt at making them laugh. They instead focused on the food that Carl had packed; there was some salt-cured meat, pickled onions and bread that was cooked in a camp oven. There were a few stale crackers and some tomatoes included in the hamper as well. Carl passed around the bottles of water as Michonne served up the food while Rick washed his hands under the garden hose.

"This looks good," Rick said, taking up his seat once more. "I'm glad we decided to come out here today."

"Yeah," said Michonne as she took a bite from the bread. "Me too."

Carl made a sandwich and then went and found a place in the shade under a tree; he took one of the comic books he had found inside of the house when he and Michonne cleared it and began to read the story slowly, savoring the moment. Rick smiled over at his son before turning his attention to Michonne.

"How are you feelin'?" he asked, sipping from his water.

"I'm good," she replied amicably. "Like I said, it's good to be outside."

Rick did not want to press her for any further information on her emotional and physical state, instead he wanted to just enjoy her company away from prying eyes.

"Looks like he found somethin' to his liking," said Rick of Carl's reading material; this caused Michonne to smile.

"Yeah, he's just lucky he saw them before I did," she joked as Rick chuckled.

"You'd still would've given 'em to him," said Rick as Michonne nodded in agreement.

"True," she replied, breaking another piece of bread. "He knows we always share."

Her simple words filled Rick's heart with a full warmth that he had not felt in some time; he gave her a gentle smile, nodded his head and swallowed his food. They fell into a comfortable silence as a solitary bird sang its song in the treetops not far from where they were seated.

…..

"How'd you get so good with that sword?" Rick asked as he and Michonne walked slowly behind Carl on their way back to the prison. "It's just that I never really asked you 'bout it, but I always wondered."

"I didn't have it before…_all of this_," she started, keeping her gaze forward. "Found it after. Ammunition was scarce, so it really was the best choice in weapon for me. And I got good from having to use it all of the damn time. I suppose it just came naturally for me."

"Well, you're damn good at it," replied Rick, in awe of Michonne. "Anyone would think you were trainin' with it all o' your life."

She said nothing, but offered him a smile; "You're amazing," Rick finally said.

"Rick," she said, not wanting to be praised at that moment.

"I mean it," he said. "I've never met anyone like you, Michonne."

Even after all that they had been through, Rick still had this way of making her skin grow warm and her heart race.

"I don't know if I've ever told you, but I do appreciate everything you've done for me and the kids," he offered sincerely.

"I don't think I've done all that much to make things easier for you, Rick," she said. "I've probably given you a lot of headaches."

She tried to make a joke, but Rick was serious in what he was trying to communicate.

"No, not really," he admitted. "You made me believe in myself, in my decisions. You came here at a time when everyone was lookin' to me to lead when I was in a bad place. You never judged me for that. You tried to be patient with me and I pushed you away and for that I am sorry. You helped me to heal."

Michonne felt a lump in her throat when she thought of what they had all been through; even after she and Rick had found one another, things were not always right between them. He did not realize that he had brought her back. She stopped in her tracks, causing him to do the same.

"You helped me too," she said, trying to steady her voice. "After everything I've been through, you and the kids helped me to open my heart again. I never thought I could, but I did; and I owe that to you."

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment but said nothing; the understanding between them did not need to be explained. The respect they both shared was as strong as their bond. Tentatively, Rick reached out and took hold of her hand; he felt it shaking and immediately felt worried for her.

"Michonne?" he asked as he noticed the tears that were filling her eyes.

"I…ah, I had a son, Rick," she whispered.

"What?" he asked, feeling his stomach drop at the realization of what it meant for her.

"I had a son."

* * *

A/N: In the next instalment, they're going to talk about her Peanut and I'm already crying!

*Today Was a Good Day by Ice Cube


End file.
